Love & Devotion

The debut release by Planet Mu boss Mike Paradinas and his wife Lara Rix-Martin is nothing like Paradinas' work as µ-ziq. Instead they synthesize warm, romantic pop a la Fleetwood Mac with somber, technological anxiety, and the inherently sad vocals of Gravenhurst's Nick Talbot.

The wispy, slate gray sky-evoking atmospherics of Heterotic's debut album are an unlikely match for their co-creator, Planet Mu boss Mike Paradinas. Although he claims that most of the music's defining influences-- the effervescent touches-- come from the duo's other half, his wife Lara Rix-Martin. That's the romantic pop of Fleetwood Mac and the mysticism of Kate Bush rather than the harsh IDM of Paradinas' defining work as µ-ziq.

At its core, Heterotic is about two disparities coming together. The name alone is rife with significance, implying not only the pair’s own male-female coupling, but also the term’s technical definition-- that of combining two different genes. The fruits of their labour turn not to be a ghastly hybrid but rather a seamless combination of two unique musical voices. Unlike almost anything Paradinas has put his name to, Love & Devotion is a seductive collection of alternately romantic and foreboding pop through the lens of weird dance music.

With six-minute instrumental opener “Bliss”, Heterotic set themselves up well for those Fleetwood Mac comparisons. With its bobbing bassline, breezy AM gold melody and wordless harmonies, it channels “Second Hand News” in a summery bluster. But as the rest of Love & Devotion unfurls, it’s a more somber affair, almost funereal. The group use tactile sounds-- knotty bass, tinkling pianos, full-throated mellotron-- that give off a 70s warmth, but technological anxiety threatens to bubble over from underneath. The burping low-end and ominous lead of “Robo Corp” appropriates “Welcome to the Machine”-style dread, and “Knell” is like an old Alan Parsons instrumental, searing guitar solo and all.

But those are the instrumentals. Warp-signed folk vocalist Gravenhurst, a.k.a. Nick Talbot, appears on four of the album’s tracks, drastically altering the album’s mood and flow. His lyrical themes turn out to be sad and bitter, flung far from the perfect synthesis the main band's name suggests. His distinct voice tears these tracks away from sunny Cali-pop straight back into dear old Blighty, bright and chilly like cold air wafting through a cemetery. Possessed of an inherently sad voice, he’s perfect for tracks like the incredible “Slumber”, where he competes against a hypnotic vocal sample in a slow-motion waltz, forlornly mumbling “We dance/ When we dance/ We dance alone.” He’s even better on “Wartime”, where he whispers a wrenching ballad about intimacy against a backdrop that feels like a distant heartbeat. It’s like a completely separate project when you put it up against “Bliss”, which comes just two tracks before.

While most of the album has some degree of melancholy floating through it, whether it’s just tinged or just full-blown downer material, Love & Devotion feels split down the middle. Not that variety is necessarily a bad thing. But with the exception of “Blue Lights”-- easily the album’s best, where Gravenhurst’s fluorescent hues channel Britpop larks rather than dour indie-- it feels as if the vocal material belongs to something much more rooted in English pop tradition than the other synthy trifles. It’s not the most cohesive listen, but then again it’s an easy one, and even easier to repeat. Subtly detailed, Love & Devotion is the kind of record where you’re bound to notice some new little touch every time you listen. And for such a no-frills pop record, that’s an accomplishment in itself. Give them some time to find their sound, but for now, Heterotic stands as a yet another promising venture from one of the most consistently surprising minds in electronic music.